Mon Ange
by ipona
Summary: Britannia Angel's erogenous zones are his wings. France is pleased to find this out. France/England, shameless smut


_A/N: The Kink Meme and FrUK is pulling me in, again and again. XD Decided to fix up and de-anon an old fill, just because._

_Have some shameless smut with France and Britannia Angel!England._

* * *

He found England, sitting on the floor, dressed in some kind of white dress, draped over one shoulder and around his body, going down to the middle of his thighs. This entire thing wouldn't have been so bizarre (stranger things had happened in the time France had known England) if it weren't for the huge wings that sprouted from the Brit's back.

"_Angleterre_?" France asked, while stepping closer to the man, admiring the huge span of his wings, ivory white feathers looking so very delicate and soft. A spell gone wrong, maybe? You never really knew with England.

"Hello France." England turned his head towards France and smiled sarcastically, "For what do I owe the honor?"

France ignored the question and sank down on his knees next to England. "What happened here?"

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Really?" France raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Then I suppose you always have large, white wings .Tell me, how have I missed this in all the years we've been acquainted?"

He let his hands run over England's body as he spoke, starting at his calf and the strings there serving as some kind of shoes, up over his thigh and waist – to at last end up on England's back, right at the base of his wings. He ran his fingers through the feathers, as if to prove his point.

He didn't exactly expect that instead of England shooting an insult France's way, his eyes went wide, his jaw dropped and a small, choked sound escaped his lips seemingly without the Englishman's consent. Something stirred in France's stomach at that, a spark of arousal at how easily he seemed to be able to get England flustered, and a smirk found its way onto his face.

"Oh?" he murmured, inching a bit closer to press against England. "You like that?"

With his eyes closed, England swallowed heavily. His skin was turning a light shade of pink and his breathing had picked up. He looked like he was trying to compose himself, and France was starting to form a plan in his head.

"Hm?" France murmured. Running fingers through the white feathers, he drew another small gasp from England's lips. "Looks to me like you're enjoying it quite a bit."

Just in case he was wrong, he glanced down at England's lap – and much like he had expected, the pristine fabric of the dress was tented by England's arousal, revealing just how much he was enjoying himself. France grinned and pressed a kiss to England's shoulder while his free hand wandered down under the hem of the dress, to England's erection and as he grabbed it softly he made the pleasant discovery that England was wearing no underwear.

The moan he drew from England's lips was this time not restrained. It seemed like his resolve had broken, when one of France's hands was on his cock, the other at the base of his strangely sensitive wings, France's lips were on his skin, and France's voice murmured carefully picked words into his ear. France knew the effect he had on England, they had known each other way too long not to – and France knew that England, if he tried, could reduce France to a similar state.

The Brit turned his head towards France, stealing a hard kiss from his lips – a kiss that made France's body spark, electric currents coursing through him. The hand that rested on England's dick slipped out from under his dress and moved up his chest, ending up at the crook of his neck as France turned more fully into him, angling his head with one hand while the other played with and stroked the satin soft feathers. Lazy fingertips ran over them and the skin beneath them, fascinated by the structure and feel.

England shuddered against him, gasping softly against his lips every time France hit a new spot, interrupting the kiss slightly without breaking it.

"These are quite nice, are they not?" France murmured, breaking away from England. The Brit didn't answer as France crawled around so that he was facing England's back, where the grand wings sprouted proudly. Running his hands through the feathers once more, England moaned. France smirked and leaned down to kiss his pale back, right between his shoulder blades, and between the large, pristine wings.

Letting his mouth wander, he kissed the base of the wings. The small, delicate feathers at the base tickled his lips, and he kept his mouth shut, planting closed-mouthed pecks instead of wet smooches. Feathers in his mouth were not something France considered very erotic.

What he did consider erotic though, was England, moaning and shuddering, his back and newly grown wings tensing rhythmically under France's fingers and mouth, hands reaching back in fruitless attempts to grab France and bring him closer. The Frenchman smirked against the skin of England's back, hands running down his back to his hips, pulling him easily into his lap.

"Wha-what are you doing?" the Brit stammered, voice heavy with desire and want, as he spread his legs on either side of France's thighs for balance and turned his head back to look at the Frenchman. Not saying a thing, France instead pulled the fabric if England's dress up to his waist, and hugged him close, the bulge of his clothed cock pressing against England's ass, chasing away any doubt the Brit had of his intentions.

"Ready for me, _cheri_?" he murmured into England's neck before he pushed him away a bit to reach into his pocket for a small packet of lube. As England heard the quiet ripping if the package, he chuckled.

"Do you always carry those with you?" he said, running his hands over the fabric of France's pants.

"I thought you knew me better than that. Of course I do," France answered absentmindedly as he pressed a hand to England's back, forcing him to lean forward to expose his ass to France. He poured the lube over his fingers and pressed them into England without warning. Grinning at England's answering moan, he continued; "You are not complaining, are you?"

"_Ah_- Not more than usual, no," Arthur managed to get out between the gasps France fished from his mouth every time his fingers hit deep.

"Mm, good." France pressed a kiss to England's spine as he retracted his fingers, enjoying the way England sent heat to his core as he moaned desperately, pushing his ass back, craving more. England had always been better at communicating with his body than with his words, and France had learned to appreciate that. He ran one hand over England's wings and the other pulled at his belt and the buttons of his own pants, getting them down past his hips to expose his swollen cock. Smearing the remaining lube over his cock, he murmured; "Calm down."

"If you don't hurry up, France, I swear I will- ah, oh- _oh god_." England was interrupted mid-sentence as France grabbed his hips and pushed up and into him, hips meeting England's ass in one swift thrust. "Oh_, fuck yes_, France!"

Grinning at the encouraging exclamation of his name, France let one hand guide England's hips, setting the pace of their rutting together, and the other found a place amongst the larger feathers further out on the Brit's wings, running his finger between them, occasionally tugging at the ends.

England was vocally appreciative; to say the least, moaning and pushing back against France more eagerly than he had for ages. Maybe this strange, alluring form had affected his libido as well? France would gladly be the one to investigate this further, especially if England would be this tight and hot and eager in his grip.

As moans escalated, and France could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, England tried to reach back to push at his hips and pull at his arms. "Wait, _o-oh fuuck_, wait, god damn it."

France leaned back, staring at England in confusion. The Brit slipped off France for a second, turning around to straddle him face to face instead. "Like this."

Curving his back to press close to England again, France reached behind England to position his cock at the Brit's entrance to push in deep. England moaned again, letting France hug him close and kiss his chest as England himself began playing with France's long blonde locks, pulling and stroking his hair and running his nails over his scalp.

They were both close to the breaking point and France's hands ran over England's back, feeling the graceful curve of strong muscle until he reached the base of the wings. He stroked the soft feathers and squeezed the firm skin beneath. England's moans reached the level of impatient whines of something that resembled words but France didn't see the meaning in making them out. Being able to render England speechless and wanton like this was enough for him.

"France, France, _oh god_," England moaned, throwing his head back as he came with a particularly well-aimed thrust combined with the slight tugging on the small feathers on the base of his wings and an erotic murmur of dirty French words against his skin.

Watching England's graceful throat stretch out and release the most pleasant of sounds, made the pressure in France's loins take over and his arms tightened around England's body, almost instinctively, as he too reached his climax. Only slightly aware of England's fingers stroking his hair, he sought out the source of all the moment's happiness and pleasure, which happened to be England, hugging him tighter to his body, keeping him there without any plans whatsoever to let him go.

Together they laid on the floor for a few minutes, breaths and hearts calming down, France still murmuring sweet nothings against England's chest – and England stroked France's hair absentmindedly as his wings seemed to have gained life of their own, moving slowly to fan the air around them, creating a magically erotic feeling to the scene.

"So." France was the first to break the moment. "How long will this last?"

England shrugged. "For the rest of the day, perhaps?"

"Too bad." France squeezed England close one last time before letting him go. "I like the wings."

"You like everything that has an impact on your sex life."

"And is that so bad?" Francis looked at England through his eyelashes, winking, and causing England to roll his eyes and slide off France with a grimace. Chuckling, France leaned over to kiss England's shoulder, running a hand over his back.

"Well, if this is going back to normal, I should at least get a second round with you," he commented. England flushed a bit red, but he didn't resist when France pressed soft lips to his neck, his cheek, and at last, his lips.


End file.
